The Consequences Of Alcohol
by condesce
Summary: Alcohol plus England equals what the HELL did he do last night? / FrUK


The first thing that greeted Arthur when he woke up was a pounding headache. He knew in an instant that this hang-over wouldn't be pleasant; they never were, but he hadn't had one like this for years.

Fuck, just _what _did he drink last night?

He let out a small puff of air and wrinkled his nose at the stench of stale beer, vomit and cigarette smoke. Great, he'd quit smoking years ago and if this meant he would start again then he wasn't going to be very happy.

This was by no means suggesting that he was happy to begin with.

Arthur raised a hand to his eyes and rubbed away the sleep and he blinked. The blurriness of the room was starting to fade and he started to notice the interior's features, and that was when he realised he didn't recognize any of them. Where the hell was he anyway?

He realised he was lying in a bed and his face flushed. He cautiously lifted up the bed sheets and saw that he was completely naked. Shit.

He looked around the room to see various items of clothing strewn across the floor. _What the hell happened last night!_

That was when Arthur realised he wasn't alone. He gathered his courage to look at the person beside him and he would recognize that wavy blond hair anywhere.

He had gone home with the _frog_? Of all people to end up sleeping with, why must it be him? Arthur didn't understand what he'd done to deserve this!

He reached over and shook the Frenchman's shoulder roughly, "Oi!" he snapped, his voice still thick with sleep and slightly slurred. Oh fuck, was he still drunk? "Get up!"

Francis merely waved him off and buried his face deeper into the pillow. Arthur grew more and more agitated at the man's behaviour. He wanted to know what happened last night and he wanted to know now!

"Francis! Get the hell up, you bloody git!"

Francis eventually rolled on to his back and opened his eyes slightly then winced. Arthur smirked; he was glad Francis had a headache just as bad as his own.

"Merde..." Francis muttered under his breath and put a hand over his eyes, "How much wine did I drink last night?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know that too, you twat! What the hell happened last night?"

Francis removed his arm from his eyes and tolerated the bright morning sunlight to regard the Englishman with a lazy smirk, "Ah..."

"What's that smirk for?" Arthur demanded and sat up. When he realised his bare chest was on show to the world's most notorious pervert, he grabbed the sheets and covered himself with a blush redder then Antonio's tomatoes.

"Oh nothing, mon cher, nothing at all."

"You know something and you're not telling me!" Arthur raged. His emerald eyes flashed dangerously as he glared at the Frenchman, "You tell me what happened at once!"

"Ah... non."

"What...? _What? _What do you mean no?" Arthur shouted angrily. Francis kept his mysterious smirk and he sat up against the soft pillows.

"Non," he repeated and winked at the furious Englishman beside him. Arthur gritted his teeth and he looked about ready to murder the man there and then, "I will not tell you. Besides, after a night like that, I'm very surprised you don't remember."

"After a night like what? Francis, you tell me right now or so help me I'll—"

"You'll what?" Francis asked with a wide smile, "Try and force it out of me... like you did last night?"

"I... _what!_"

Francis laughed loudly and reached over to gently caress Arthur's cheek. He smiled softly, "Oh mon cher, I was just joking."

Arthur's red face flushed deeper and he smacked the Frenchman's hand away from his face. Used to this behaviour, Francis withdrew his hand and watched Arthur with that soft smile still in place.

He remembered everything about the previous night and he knew that Arthur would be like this. He wanted to hold if over him forever but as much as he would love to, his heart was telling him no. He'd loved Arthur for years and when the Englishman finally broke up with that American idiot, he'd done everything he could to make Arthur his, but all his attempts were in vain. Now, when the Englishman went home with him that night, half of Francis knew he was lucky, but the other side, his rational side knew that it was only because Arthur was extremely drunk and he needed someone to talk to.

But when things started to get heated... well... lets just say Francis' rational side went completely out the window.

Arthur continued to glare at him and a small pout was forming on his oh-so-kissable lips. Francis sighed and decided to fill him in on all the blanks- which was pretty much the whole night.

"I found you in a bar," he stated with a lazy sigh, "You had been there a while and as usual, you couldn't handle your alcohol so you were depressed."

"Oh thanks," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You started to cry, as usual," Francis said and glanced over at him, "I'd decided you'd had too much so I offered to take you home, but as we left the bar you decided to vomit everywhere—"

"Yes, yes, all right, I didn't need to know that!"

"Anyway, I decided my house was closer so I brought you here. And you mustn't be angry, mon cher, because I promise you I didn't do anything, but we had sex, but—"

"WHAT?"

"Let me finish!" Francis said quickly, "You started it! You kissed me first and you wanted it."

Arthur blushed. The memories of the previous night were slowly returning to him and he groaned. Francis was right; he was the one to initiate the kiss, and he was the one who pushed Francis on to the bed. He was the one who... he shook his head, not wanting to finish that thought.

"I'm sorry... I feel terribly embarrassed."

"Naturally, you would," Francis smirked and when Arthur glared at him once more he waved his hand dismissively, "But I can't say I didn't enjoy it."

"You would say that, you pervert."

Francis moved a little closer and cupped Arthur's cheek in his hand once again, "But really... last night..." he sighed and decided it was now or never, "Last night was different for me..."

"Oh...?" Arthur watched him curiously.

"Oui, it was different because usually when I go home with someone it is because they're a substitute for the one person I could not have. You were that person I could not have and last night was... I know you were drunk and I probably took advantage of that but you must understand, mon cher, that my intentions were not bad..."

Arthur blushed for what felt like the millionth time that morning as he stared at the Frenchman. He had feelings for him... and not the usual perverted feeling he was used to. He had real, genuine feelings for him and Arthur was finding that hard to comprehend. Francis was known for bringing home a different person every time he went out.

"Really?" he asked, "You're not lying to me?"

"Non, I beg you to believe me..." Francis looked into Arthur's green eyes and the Brit could see that the sapphires that met his own emeralds held nothing but sincerity. He really wasn't lying...

Without thinking Arthur moved forward and closed the gap between them. Their lips connected into a soft and sweet kiss- something Francis was far from used to doing. He kissed Arthur back and equalised the pressure and slipped his arm around his waist while keeping one hand on his cheek.

Arthur pulled away after a moment and smiled a little, "I suppose... I suppose it's worth a try."

Francis smiled, "Oui... I would like that very much. Just one thing though..."

"Hm?"

"Before you kiss me again, please brush your teeth. Your breath is vile."

"...Thanks Francis."


End file.
